


You've Got the Right Stuff, Baby

by tamlane



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Play, Blow Jobs, Consent Play, Dirty Talk, F/M, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2013-11-01
Packaged: 2017-12-31 04:42:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1027350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamlane/pseuds/tamlane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron thinks Rose's birthday present would look great on Hermione.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You've Got the Right Stuff, Baby

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Daily Deviant. Theme: adolescentism.
> 
> Thanks to my betas, [](http://lightofdaye.livejournal.com/profile)[lightofdaye](http://lightofdaye.livejournal.com/) and [](http://traintracks.livejournal.com/profile)[traintracks](http://traintracks.livejournal.com/) for their advice and encouragement. (October 2013)

A boy band t-shirt: that’s what her little girl wanted for her fifteenth birthday. Hermione shook her head. It couldn’t have been a book. Or even a Quidditch robe. No, since _Accio Nasty_ had busted on to the music scene the previous year, books and Quidditch were suddenly second fiddle to cheesy pop music.

And boys in general. 

Hermione took the garment from the shopping bag and held it up so Ron could see what they’d be Owling to their daughter at Hogwarts. He didn’t look up, immersed as he was in carving an elaborate chess piece that threatened to blow his little finger off if he didn’t get the beard just right.

“Well?” Hermione said, shaking the t-shirt in his direction. The disembodied heads of the band members floated around the front, lip-synching and whipping their floppy hair about. “Can you believe Rose is into this stuff?”

“What stuff?” he mumbled, still not looking up. "Clothes?"

"No," Hermione said with a smirk. "Boys."

"What boys?" Ron’s head snapped up in panic. When he saw the shirt, he rolled his eyes. "Oh. Them." He snorted. "Those aren’t boys. Those are puppets."

"Exactly. Rose has never been the type to go for silly stuff like this." 

Ron shrugged. "What’s the big deal?"

"I don’t know." Hermione held the shirt out, eyeing it distastefully. It wasn’t the shirt that bothered her, as tacky as it was. And it wasn’t the new anti-Rose that had emerged in the past year, either, though Hermione could do without some of the excessive huffing and eye-rolling. "I was never into anything like this," she said quietly. 

She heard Ron set his work down on the coffee table, but he didn’t respond. After a few moments, she looked over to find him leaning forward, elbows propped on his long legs. The corner of his lip twitched. "What?" Hermione said. "What are you thinking?"

"Wha? Nothing," he said, too quickly. Scratching at the back of his neck, he added, "It was just…."

"It was just what? Spit it out."

"It’s nothing really," he said with a chuckle, his ears turning red. "I was just thinking… well, I—" He dropped his voice. "—I thought it might look good on you."

It was Hermione’s turn to laugh. "What?" She dug around in the bag, pulling out a box, wrapping paper, and Spello-tape. "Don’t be silly. It would look ridiculous." After arranging some tissue paper in the bottom of the box, she carefully folded the t-shirt back up. Maybe she wouldn’t wrap it just yet, though. Maybe she’d head to Flourish and Blotts on her lunch break tomorrow and pick up a book to put in with it. One of those silly teen romance-horror books that Rose had gotten into. Another weird new obsession, but at least it was a literary one.

"Why don’t you try it on?" Ron suggested.

He couldn’t be serious. But when Hermione looked back up, he was staring at her intently. Hungrily even. His tongue darted out to wet his lips. Hermione felt a simultaneous twinge of irritation and whisper of arousal. "Well, for one thing, it wouldn’t fit," she snapped, a bit too harshly. She tried to keep fit, but she’d had two kids, after all. Didn’t he understand how embarrassing it would be to try to squeeze herself into a garment made for people who hadn’t yet grown curves?

Ron shifted on the sofa, his eyes dropping to her chest. "Yeah, it would be really tight over your tits, wouldn’t it?" he said with a lopsided grin.

She chuckled dismissively. "Ron."

"Go on, then." His ears were bright red now, but he waggled his eyebrows at her. "You can be the naughty schoolgirl, and I’ll be the dirty old man taking advantage of you." 

The idea sent a wicked jolt of fire down her spine. They had ‘played parts,’ as they called it, before. But it had been a long time ago. Her heart rate picked up as she thought of their games of Auror and Suspect-in-Questioning, which had always been a favorite of Ron’s. A favorite of hers, too. She knew that Ron felt like he rarely got to be the big tough guy he’d always dreamed of being, whether on his job or in anything else. Not next to Harry Potter. 

The times he’d gotten tough in the bedroom had left her body buzzing. And deliciously sore.

Still, this felt different. He’d hinted about her dressing up as a schoolgirl before, and something about it rubbed her the wrong way. Even in their Hogwarts days, Hermione had never been one for skirts and ruffles and barrettes. She’d never been a girly girl, chewing bubble gum and giggling. That had been Lavender’s thing, and she couldn’t help feeling affronted that Ron would want her to be that, even as a game. 

At that thought, she pushed the box and wrapping paper away and made to stand. "Ron, it’s Rose’s birthday present," she said crossly. "Of course I’m not going to try it on." She smoothed out the wrinkles in her pajamas in a huff. "Is that what you want, then?" she said, crossing her arms. "A naughty schoolgirl?"

He withered under her look. "Well, I mean… yeah, I think it’s a common enough fantasy. Isn’t it?"

"For a man with a wife in her forties?" Hermione snapped. "Whose wife was never a naughty schoolgirl in the first place? Yeah, I guess it would be."

"Wha—no," he backpedaled. "Hang on, I didn’t—"

"I’m tired," she said, kicking the box under the coffee table. Part of her knew he didn’t deserve such a harsh dismissal of his fantasy. But the larger part of her was angry he would want it in the first place. And most troubling of all, perhaps, was the irrational appeal the idea held for her, too. "I’m going to bed."

***

There were five of them, of course. Boy bands always came in fives.

Hermione didn’t know all their names, despite the fact that Rose had talked about them practically nonstop the previous summer. She remembered ‘Ro’ and ‘Joe’ because they rhymed. All right, and she also remembered Brody because he was her favorite. He was the inevitable dark, brooding one with heavy eyebrows and an artfully menacing scowl.

Yes, Hermione had a favorite, and yes, she supposed he resembled Viktor Krum the tiniest bit.

She sat on their bed, t-shirt laid out in front of her. The blonde one winked up at her, and she huffed. She should have just wrapped the thing and been done with it. But Ron was working late, and for some unknown reason, she’d felt compelled to get it out and… well, not necessarily try it on.

But she did wonder if she could squeeze into it.

Eventually, curiosity made her grab the shirt and approach the wardrobe mirror. She studied her reflection for a minute. Forty-one wasn’t that old, was it? She didn’t feel old. She didn’t have as many wrinkles as some women her age. She stripped down to her knickers and held the shirt up in front of her, unable to help feeling a little smug when Joe (or was it Ro?) casually checked out her legs in the reflection.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled the shirt over her head and, after much squirming, got it on.

It fit. Okay, it didn't _fit_ fit, but she wasn't splitting the seams or anything. Not yet anyway. Ron had been right about her tits. Although they were saggy without her bra, they looked pretty good in the tight shirt. She wished she could say the same for her protruding belly and love handles, and when did her upper arms get so flabby?

Still, maybe if she changed her knickers to something sexier….

Fifteen minutes later, Hermione stood in front of the wardrobe in the t-shirt, a fuchsia thong, a pair of Rose’s tube socks, and two very unruly pigtails. And also some expired glittery lip gloss she found in Rose’s bathroom drawer.

She looked utterly ridiculous.

But she felt incredible.

In fact, she didn’t remember the last time she felt so sexy. Even Brody raised one thick eyebrow in appreciation. She leaned with one palm flat against the mirror, pinching a nipple and letting her hand wander down to the crotch of her thong. It was already wet. 

She stroked herself over the skimpy fabric. No, this wasn’t her. She’d never been this type of girl. But that was strangely liberating. This girl could be ditzy and silly if she wanted to. She could be innocent. Carefree. 

She could be dirty, too, if Hermione wanted her to. And Hermione suddenly felt like being very dirty. She jerked the t-shirt up over her breasts, anchoring it under her arms and rolling her thumb around her nipples. Her other hand reached into her thong until she had two fingers buried inside her. She pumped them, watching herself in the mirror: the way her ponytails bounced with the motion, the way the tube socks hugged her calves, the way her lip gloss glistened. 

She worked herself steadily, imagining being told to get on her knees in the dungeons at Hogwarts and suck a nameless, faceless Head Boy’s cock. She imagined having detention, being spanked and made to stand in the corner. She thrust her fingers faster and faster, sweat gathering on her brow. At this rate, she’d have to wash the t-shirt before she sent it to Rose. In fact, she almost didn’t want to send it at all now….

"Hermione?"

She whirled around, screaming, to find Ron standing there gaping at her, still dressed in his Auror’s robes. 

"Ron!" She jerked the t-shirt back down, covering herself, and then realized what a stupid move that was. Ron’s eyes immediately went to the five boys on the front, to the big “ACCIO NASTY” in pink glitter across the chest. Hermione stood frozen, not knowing how to explain herself. Not only was she humiliated at being caught in such a silly position, but she figured Ron must have been angry. She’d refused to do this for him, and here she was getting off on it while he was supposed to be at work. In fact—

"Why aren’t you at work?"

Ron shrugged out of his outer robe and tossed it onto the dresser in a heap, something that really got on her nerves. But she didn’t feel that she was in any position to protest at the moment.

"Got relieved for the night," he replied, his eyes wandering over her bare legs. "What are you—"

"Nothing," Hermione interrupted him, reaching down to tug at the hem of the t-shirt.

"Let’s try that again," he said, and suddenly a look came over his face. A look Hermione hadn’t seen in ages. He had just undeniably slipped into character. And it ignited her in a way she’d forgotten. He crossed his arms, lifting one eyebrow. "What, exactly, do you think you’re doing, little girl?"

Hermione’s blood started to race. "I’m—" She cleared her throat, pitched her voice higher, and said in her most dramatically obstinate voice, "I am _not_ a little girl."

"I’ll ask you nicely one more time," Ron said, "and then I’m likely to get shirty." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and stepped closer. He wore only his black trousers and his white t-shirt now. And his heavy black boots. It had always been a good look on him. "What are you doing in my bedroom?"

Hermione reached up to wind her finger in one pigtail. "Look, I’m sorry, mister. I didn’t know anyone was at home."

"That so?" Ron walked a circle around her. "Breaking and entering is a crime, you know. I’m an Auror. I could have you taken in."

Hermione nearly moaned aloud at the stern tone of his voice. That was the most difficult thing about playing parts: staying in character, when all she wanted to do was give in and jump Ron’s bones. "No, sir, please." She thought for a second before adding, "My parents would be so disappointed. I’m a good girl, really."

"Oh yeah?" His eyes raked her over from head to toe, his tongue licking lasciviously across his bottom lip. "And do good girls get half-naked in strange men’s bedrooms and play with themselves? Hmm?"

She twisted the hem of the t-shirt. "But I wasn’t—"

"You weren’t what?" Ron cut her off. He batted her hands away and lifted her t-shirt, exposing her thong, which was still partially lodged between the lips of her cunt. "You weren’t playing with yourself?" He shook his head. "You know what I think? I think you were hoping you’d get caught by the man of the house."

"What? No." That much, at least, was not a lie or an act. She’d had no idea he’d be home early. Although she certainly wasn’t complaining now. "I… I…"

"You what?" he said sharply, jerking her forward by the waistband of her thong.

Hermione lifted her hands to steady herself against his chest. "Please, sir, don’t hurt me!" she cried with relish. "I… I’ve never even had sex before. I’m a… a virgin!" She almost laughed at the idea until Ron’s hand slipped between them, rubbing at the soaked crotch of her thong. Instead, she ended up whimpering.

"You looking for some help with that?" he whispered, cocking his head to the side. "Is that why you’re here?"

She bit her lip and looked up at him from under her lashes. "Of course not," she said, even while moving her hips against his hand. "I wouldn’t even know what to do."

Ron’s eyes gleamed. "Oh, I’d be glad to show you what to do."

Hermione grasped handfuls of his t-shirt and took a deep breath to collect herself. She didn’t remember Ron being so good at this, so natural. But she supposed an Auror had to be able to act as part of the job, and Ron had many years of experience with that by now. "But… but you might hurt me." 

Ron chuckled and backed away abruptly, hands working his belt loose and unfastening his trousers. He pushed the flies aside and freed his cock, which was already fully hard. He gave it a squeeze. "I’ll hurt you, all right," he said with a smirk. "If you really are a virgin, that is."

"Of course I am," Hermione said in her best offended tone. But she couldn’t help licking her lips as she watched him stroke himself. Ron really did have a marvelous cock. "I’ve never seen one of those before in my life."

"You haven’t, eh?" More chuckling. "I bet you’ve never sucked on one, either, then. Have you?"

Hermione theatrically turned up her nose. "Ew, no, that’s gross."

He let go of his cock and reached out, tweaking one of her nipples. "And what do you think the boys on that t-shirt want? Hmm? You think boys your age just want to snog, and that’s it?" He stopped, eyes wide. "Wait. Scratch that last part. I don’t want to think about—"

"Yeah, I don’t want to think about it, either," Hermione said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

They both just looked at each other, definitely thinking the same thing.

Finally Ron spoke. "You don’t think Rose—"

"Certainly not," Hermione said. "I mean, she’s only fifteen, right?" They weren’t snogging at fifteen. Well, Ron wasn’t. She snogged Krum.

"Er—"

Hermione gestured wildly. "Can we just…?" She left the _’not think about our daughter’s possible sex life’_ hanging.

"Right enough," Ron said. "Er… where were we?"

Hermione let the pitch of her voice go back up and pointed to Ron’s cock. "I couldn’t put that in my mouth. I just couldn’t."

It seemed to work. Ron snapped back into character, once more stroking himself, his hips pumping into the motion. "Sure you can. Grown women do it all the time."

"They do?"

"Mm-hmm."

Again she fluttered her eyelashes at him. "Well," she drawled, "maybe you could teach me?"

For the first time since he’d walked through the door, she saw Ron falter and knew she’d really hit a kink. She wanted to whoop in triumph. That’s how it always worked, both of them trying to be the first to make the other cave with the role.

He sighed heavily. "Well, I don’t know," he said, pretending to think about it. "It does take some skill. Normally I’d want someone with more experience."

At that, Hermione gave him a withering look. That was another thing about playing parts. Inevitably one of them would say something the other thought utterly ridiculous. And wasn’t his last line just like a man, wanting to hear a girl beg to suck his cock? "Oh, come on, mister," she said in a meaningful deadpan. "Please."

"All right, then." He smiled. "Since you asked so nicely." 

Hermione rolled her eyes.

He cleared his throat and began importantly, "First you get down on your knees."

Hermione dropped to her knees eagerly, giving him her best ditzy grin. "Like this?"

Again she saw Ron falter. He really got into the eager, innocent act. She’d have to try to play that up. "Yeah, that’s good," he said thickly. "Stick out your tongue for me."

She did, and he ran the head of his cock back and forth over it. Hermione purred at the taste of his precome on the tip. 

"Good," he grunted. "You’ll want to remember to breathe through your nose. And careful with your teeth."

Hermione pressed her legs together. She had to admit there was something sexy about being ‘taught’ to give a blow job. "Anything else?" she asked, giving him a little lick.

"That’s good enough for now." He ran his cockhead all over her lips. "Now open up and say ‘ah’."

"Ah." The syllable was cut short as he slid his cock between her lips. She hesitantly closed them around it, taking only about half of his length. Hermione loved doing this, and she didn’t have much of a gag reflex. But she wanted to play. Wanted to tease Ron. So she pretended to choke.

He took the cue like a pro. "Easy now," he whispered. "Try to take some more." His tone became taunting. "Big girls can take a whole cock down their throats, you know."

Hermione hummed, swallowing more of him and feeling a giddy rush when Ron gasped. She grasped his hips and started bobbing up and down in earnest, moaning when he wound his hands in her pigtails and began to guide her motion.

"Thatta girl," he said, voice strained. He began fucking her face, and Hermione greedily sucked, hollowing her cheeks. Ron’s breathing grew shorter. "Oh yeah, you like that, don’t you? You like sucking my big cock?"

She groaned in response, moving faster. Saliva dripped down her chin, nasty sounds filling the room as she slurped on his cock. Then she looked up, meeting his eye, and Ron pulled her off of him with a muffled curse. They both panted. Hermione didn’t even wipe her face, just stared up at him expectantly. She could tell he was close to losing it, and her whole body was taut with anticipation.

"You’re pretty good at that," he said, his voice sharp. "I think you’re lying to me. I think you’ve done this before."

"No, I swear I haven’t! I swear I’m a good girl."

"Uh-huh," Ron said, jerking on her arm. "Get up."

"You don’t believe me?" she squeaked as he hauled her to her feet.

"No, I’m afraid I don’t." He steered her towards the bed, and Hermione felt a whole new wave of arousal hit her. "You don’t suck cock like a virgin." He spun her to face him. "Just what else have you done?"

"Nothing, I swear."

"Nothing?" He raised one eyebrow at her. "You’ve never been fucked?"

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath at the word. She loved to hear Ron say that word. She liked to hear him say other, even dirtier words, too, and hoped he wouldn’t hold back. "No," she whispered, meeting his eye timidly. "I swear I’ve never been… done that."

He smirked at her. "Then this might hurt a little," he said, pushing her back onto the bed.

Hermione scrambled onto her elbows. "No, please don’t hurt me! I’m sorry I broke in. I didn't mean to cause any trouble. " It was so hard to stay in character when Ron started stripping off his clothes, each movement revealing more pale, freckled skin and ginger hair. "You can arrest me if you have to, but please don’t…. don’t…"

"Don’t fuck you?" Ron said, at last standing in front of her entirely nude. 

"No," she said. Granted, it was a weak-sounding protest. He grabbed her by the hips and flipped her over. "What are you doing?"

"Get on your hands and knees."

Merlin, she loved that position. It was the best for making her come. "Why?"

He leaned over her, fists planted in the mattress at her sides. "Because that’s how I like it," he rasped in her ear. "Now, are you going to do it? Or do I need to tie you up to make you more cooperative? Maybe give you a spanking?"

Hell yes, she wanted a spanking. Maybe later. "No. No, I’ll be good," she replied.

"Yes, you will," said Ron, hauling her hips up off the bed. "Now let me see that hot little arse." 

He jerked her thong down to her knees, the fabric digging painfully into her thighs, and gave her a sharp smack on one arse cheek. Hermione threw her head back and moaned. The moan turned into a shout when he rubbed his fingers back and forth through her wet lips, fingertips teasing her clit. She rode his hand, wanting more. 

"Ooh, you like that, don’t you?" he teased her. And just like that, his hand was gone. Hermione cursed under her breath. "You might not like this so much, though," he said, and in one plunge, he seated himself inside her.

Hermione cried out at the sudden intrusion, though it was almost embarrassing how easily he had entered her. She was soaked and dripping down her thighs from their game and sorely in need of friction. He immediately obliged her on that count, starting a slow, deep rhythm. She bucked back against him, grunting when he slapped her arse several more times in quick succession.

"Oh yeah, you’ve definitely done this before," Ron said, landing more smacks. "You naughty little girl."

Hermione bounced back harder against him, fisting the duvet. "Maybe… maybe once or twice."

"I knew it," he said, his voice now delightfully vicious. He leaned over her, his cock pounding her in that same measured pace. He grasped her hips to slow her movements, and Hermione knew he was trying to hold himself off. "You’re a little slut, aren’t you?" his hissed in her ear.

"God, Ron," she panted, so turned on that she felt like a few good strokes to her clit might make her come.

But he stilled suddenly. "What is it?" he said, his voice now normal. "Was that going too far?"

Hermione had to think for a moment before she even realized she’d broken character. "Are you crazy?" she screeched, urging him on with her hips. "Go farther! Pull my hair. Pull it!"

With a growl, Ron scooped her pigtails into one hand, pulling her head back. "Who’s Ron?" he snapped. "I don’t know any Ron. Is that your little boyfriend?" He started slamming into her mercilessly. "Bet he can’t fuck you like this, can he?"

"No, no, you’re the best," Hermione said, fully immersed in the role. "You’re the best I’ve ever had."

"Damn right." More smacks. Her arse cheeks started to burn, her cunt on fire from his ruthless fucking. "You’re a cock-hungry little slut, aren’t you?"

All Hermione could do was groan in response. She didn’t want to touch herself, not yet, although her clit ached for friction. She was enjoying being used, delighting in their game.

Ron gave her pigtails a tug. "I said _aren’t you_?"

"Yes."

"Say it," he gritted out, hips pistoning.

"I’m… I’m a…"

"Say it!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the room.

"I’m a cock-hungry slut!" Hermione shouted back. It was such a release, saying those words.

"Hell yes, you are," Ron purred. "Yeah, you’re getting fucked like a big girl now, aren’t you? Getting fucked good. _Say it._ "

She was so close. She felt her whole pelvis tensing and reached between them, frantically rubbing circles over her clit. She could feel his shaft against her fingertips, hammering in and out of her, balls slapping against her arse. "Getting fucked good," she managed to grit out. "Getting fucked like a big girl."

"Yeah, you like that big, grown-up cock, little girl?"

"I love it, mister." Hermione didn’t even know what they were saying now, she was so far gone. She mumbled desperately, wantonly, "Fuck yeah, give it to me …. make me take it, make me take it…."

And then she exploded, keening. Ron kept up his pace, still shouting obscenities. Every other word was ‘take it’ or ‘slut’, and it only made her orgasm that much stronger. Every muscle in her body seemed to contract again and again, and then she heard Ron, almost distantly, saying, "Oh fuck, Hermione, oh fuck."

His fingertips dug craters in her hips, and he jerked erratically, pumping her full of hot come.

Some unidentifiable amount of time later, they collapsed in a heap, boneless. Neither of them even had the breath or energy for a ‘bloody hell,’ though she was sure they were both thinking it. Ron did manage to finally grunt at her, and she chuckled in response.

"Whoa," he said at last.

"Yeah."

The shirt was… well, in no condition to be sent as a birthday present, needless to say. Hermione smiled at the thought that this was probably the most action Ro, Joe, and Brody had ever seen in their lives. Hell, it was the most action she’d seen in a while. Not that she and Ron didn’t have a healthy sex life. But there was ‘healthy,’ and then there was _that_.

"Hermione?" Ron rumbled against her neck.

"Yeah?"

"You’re going to keep that shirt, right?"

"Oh yeah," she said. She might even go buy one of their records.

_The End_


End file.
